Not the End of the World
by chb76
Summary: ..."Mom? Can we go now?" He wants to go so badly, he feels like he couldn't recover from its rejection. But she's shaking her head. She's rejecting him. My version of the last moments of the final episode. NOT tragedy.


**A/N: So I'm doing what I always said I wouldn't and writing a fic that is destined to be AU. **

**I know people have discussed how they'd like the series to end. Should Kripke kill them off or have them driving off into the sunset? A double death would be more dramatic but how much would that hurt? We want to see them happy but also want a realistic, satisfying and dramatic ending to an amazing series, so what do you do? This is one idea I had, although I can't see it being translated on to TV without it looking like all kinds of cheese. **

**Not the End of the World**

_Summary: "Mom? Can we go now?" He wants to go so badly, he feels like he couldn't recover from its rejection. But she's shaking her head. She's rejecting him. My version of the final moments of episode 5x22._

_Warnings: Chick flick moment. Quite a large one. Spiritual though not religious content. Some non-graphic violence. One swear word._

The day Dean dies also happens to be the wettest, noisiest day of the year. Dark clouds had gathered as if foreshadowing the event which would cause the skies to mourn, weeping huge torrents of seemingly endless rain on to the tortured earth. The thunder had begun, predictably when the first punch had been thrown. Rock salt, Holy Water and exorcisms had been used until there was nothing left but the determination and spirit of two young men forced into a life, into a war neither of them had chosen. It had seemed to them that they had all but won when weary, bloodied and battered they had shared a look which spoke of too many horrors as the rain pounded them mercilessly, plastering their hair to their faces and causing their clothes to cling to their beaten bodies. Then, probably too dramatically, a flash of sheet lightning had lit up the skies and the area around them for just enough time for Dean to see a pair of black eyes just feet behind his brother.

A wave of one hand later and Sam had been flung aside, pinned against a tree in an uncanny act of deja vu, as the demon had approached him forcing him to his knees without even touching him.

And when it all ends it's this one remaining demon that finishes him off just as he'd always known it would be.

He doesn't look at his brother, suspended helplessly, once again unable to help as a demon who had boasted of knowing their father, boasted of being his torturer reaches into his chest with nothing but his mind and slowly, agonisingly begins to destroy him from the inside. The pain is intense as he feels the blood drain from his organs, feels them fail and finally relinquish their efforts to keep him breathing and he hardly feels the impact or pain as he's thrown cruelly into someone's gravestone and he thinks to himself how predictable and unimaginative demons can be.

In those final seconds as the life drains out of him, he feels the demon's hold on him weaken as it swaggers towards him, laughing, mocking, arrogant and ultimately a stupidly fatal mistake as with his last ounce of strength and will, a strength he hadn't realised he possessed he somehow manages to send a knife, _the_ knife, hard and hast into the already dead host's chest, destroying the demon inside, in a flash and crackle of orange light.

He rolls exhausted on to his back, staring up at the storm clouds drowning him with their downpour, water diluting the blood pooling from the gash in his head, the wetness on the grass soaking through his jeans and his shirt and it's strangely comforting as he becomes one with the rain. The adrenaline begins to fade as he feels the life being dragged painfully out of him, tastes the blood in his mouth and the burn in his chest and then in a snapshot a face appears above his own. He finds it hard to focus because he's choking on his own blood, hears himself gasping for breath, hears his own cries of pain, of fear then fixes his eyes on to those of his brother's, hovering over him, mirroring the terror he feels, reflecting his own tears as he feels his existence drift away.

The hands shake him hard and suddenly he can hear his little brother yelling at him, screaming at him not to leave, to stay with him, fingers digging into his arms, hands wiping the blood from his face, tapping gently at his cheek, then not just a tap but a hard, furious, desperate blow, hard enough to hurt but he barely feels it and he can hardly hear his brother's screams and pleading now like it doesn't matter anymore because they're drifting away like the pain, slowly slipping further and further away into silence and peace and nothingness and darkness.

And then time slows and he sees the world for what it is, sees his life stretched before him, sees his failures, his mistakes and all the things he did right, the people he saved, the people who are still alive because of him and he sees his brother.

Time passes like he's floating through space, years, decades fly past him, like newspaper on the wind and he can see it all, the beginning and the end, the end of everything, the beginning of time and he understands it all so clearly, all his questions seem answered, all his doubts extinguished and all his fears melt to nothing as the darkness fades giving way to light and air and when he blinks he notices that it doesn't hurt anymore.

He surveys the landscape of nothingness presented before him, fields of bright white light stretching on for forever holding his attention, as if it were the most incredible thing he had ever seen until he feels the presence of another, some feet behind him and he knows who it is before he sees them because he can see everything, everything that was and everything that will be and it feels normal, perfect, right. As he turns slowly to see the face of his father, the light seems to intensify and a warmth wells up inside of him.

"Dad? That really you?"

He doesn't say anything but then he doesn't need to because he can hear his father's thoughts, hear everything he has ever felt, everything he has ever thought - it's all there laid out before him and it's so powerful, so overwhelming it almost brings him sobbing to his knees. He hears a sharp intake of breath as the memories assault him and then as soon as it had begun it eases a little and he sees for the first time, sees the depth, the purity of his father's love for him, feels it as if he could reach out and touch it, it's so real, so vivid, so strong. The tears in his eyes blur his vision somewhat and he can't make out the second face straight away although he instinctively knows who it belongs to and he knows she's there before he can focus.

She looks at him with his own eyes, mirrored, the same, as if understanding and knowing him, knowing every cell in his body and soul, striking through his fear and uncertainties and the love she feels for him is almost tangible; radiating from her, filling him up inside so much he feels like he could explode. But there's something else, something even more powerful, more terrifying, more beautiful than even the love from his mother and father and it's coming from somewhere else, somewhere beyond, behind them a place he can't quite see so much as feel, a place he feels he can't quite reach but it's there calling him forward and it's unconditional, pure, obliterating, and waiting just for him, soaking into his pores, into his soul, healing him of every bad thing he's ever done, seen, or had done to him and the peace and sheer joy he feels in that second makes him want to cry and he wants so badly to dive into it, to let it smother him, to never leave it, to never let it end.

She's smiling at him as he turns back to her and his words come out without him voicing them, without even moving his lips.

"Mom? Can we go now?"

He wants to go so badly, he feels like he couldn't recover from its rejection. But she's shaking her head._ She's_ rejecting him. He can hear her telling him 'no', her voice gentle and perfect, like honey in his head but she's refusing him, rejecting him and he can't understand why.

"Please. I'm tired, Mom."

He can hear his Dad now, echoing his mother's thoughts, telling him no, telling him he doesn't belong here, telling him to go and he can feel tears streaming down his face as the words find his heart.

"Why Dad? Why don't you want me?"

His Dad just smiles and he can see the tears in his eyes, but he still doesn't understand.

"Dad. Please?"

"We're not ready for you. You're not ready for us. And Sam's not ready to let you go."

"What?"

"He needs you."

He finds himself screaming furiously then, because he still doesn't really remember who Sam is and he doesn't care anyway because all he wants is to stay.

"NO! **_What about me_**?! What am **_I_** supposed to do?"

They don't speak this time just stare at him, their gaze warm, hopeful, expectant as if waiting for him to answer his own question, waiting for him to understand.

"Why, Dad? Why can't I come with you? Haven't I done enough? I don't want to go back; I _can't_ go back."

His Dad takes a step forward and touches him, a hand on his shoulder and it sends bolts of electricity through him and he gasps from the shock of it, but it doesn't hurt, it doesn't hurt at all.

"Yes you can."

His father's hand moves to rest on his cheek, his thumb wipes the tears away and he finds himself shaking his head, the sadness enveloping him because he knows that he has to go back, return to that place where there is no peace or rest and he wants more than anything to go where the light is pulling him but he knows that he can't.

A moment later he feels everything change as if the decision had been made, made by him although it's not what he wants and he can feel the distance between him and his parents widen as if he's being pulled, as if he'd made that decision and now nothing could stop it and he starts to shake his head even harder because he wants to go with them and his Mom's smiling now and he's being pulled away back and back, away from them and it hurts so much he screams.

And with the screams the light disappears, ripped away and the dark returns with the pain.

There's blood in his mouth and he's gasping, gasping, tears are streaming down his cheeks, mingling with the rain and the gasps turn into coughs hacking rasping, then the coughs become sobs and he's crying so hard, crying out, screaming no, no, no, but then he feels something else, something gripping his arms, shaking him, warm air on his face and the crying eases a little replaced by greedy gulping intakes of breath as he tries to fill his lungs and then a voice, a voice he knows, familiar, safe.

Sam. His little brother. The one he'd forgotten, the one he'd been ready to leave behind and he tries to tell him he's sorry, tries to beg for forgiveness because he's so sure he must hate him but he can't quite get the words out but then he finds himself being lifted up, held up off the freezing, sodden earth, his brother's strong arms supporting his soaking body, pressing him into the warmth of his chest, hands pushing the drenched strands of hair away from his forehead, talking softly to him, drawing him back from the light into the darkness of the world and all it's despair and horror and fear and pain and suddenly he knows this is where he should be. This is his place right now, this is his path. Here in the dark, amongst the desperate and the lost and the haunted, standing side by side with his brother.

And it hurts. It hurts so much he cries. Cries so hard he almost doesn't hear his brother's gentle whispers of reassurance.

"Ssh, I've got you, I've got you. It's gonna be ok, I promise."

His hand automatically reaches for his brother's jacket, his fingers bury into the drenched fabric, holding on as the pain tortures his body once more, the sobs increasing shaking him from within.

"Stay with me, I've got you."

He presses his head into his brother's chest wanting to block out the place he had come from, trying to forget, trying to let the solid reality of his flesh and blood so close to him block out the pain of being ripped away from everlasting peace. Listens to his brother's heartbeat, lets it take him away from what could have been and draws him back to where he should be and he finds his own heart rate slowing, calming, the pain eases and the sense of loss fades, the sounds of his parents' voices in his head gradually drowned out by the pounding of the rain and the persistent rhythm of his brother's heart beating in his chest.

The next thing he hears is the low rumble of an engine, a sound he remembers, distinct, not his own but someone else's. Someone he knows and then heavy, forceful footsteps, splashing through puddles, through water and mud and an older man's gruff, angry voice saying something about 'morons' getting themselves into 'yet another load of horse shit'.

And he hears Sam laugh.

"Hear that? Bobby's here and he's real pissed with you man, so you gotta hang on so he can kick your ass."

He tries to laugh but it comes out as something else, something not that good he thinks because Sam's tone changes and he tightens his arms around his trembling body.

"It's ok, it's ok. He's gonna get us out of here. He'll patch you up and you'll be good as new. It'll be alright. Bobby's here and I'm here. I'm gonna take care of you, I'm gonna take care of you, cause that's my job right? Looking out for my pain in the ass of a big brother? You're gonna be fine, Dean just hang on, hang on to me ok?"

And he does. His fingers grip his brother's jacket even tighter, so tight his fingers hurt but he doesn't care because Sam says he's here and even though it hurts he knows it's okay.

"I'm right here, I'm with you. It's gonna be ok. You're gonna be ok."

And he knows now more than anything, with more certainty than ever, for the first time in so many years, that it will, because he's alive and his brother's alive and Bobby's alive and they'll keep fighting, remember what they were taught and keep on teaching each other and when they're done, there'll be a place for them to rest, people waiting for them, people who love them, where there'll be no more pain, or fear or hate. For now of course that place will have to wait because this isn't the end.

And they've got work to do.

End

_Yet as our hair turns white_

_All the stars shine so bright above_

_At least it's not the end of the world._

_Lyrics from "Not the end of the World" by Super Furry Animals not much to do with the fic but it's where I borrowed the title from. _

_Thanks for reading. Hope it didn't suck for you._

_Reviews as always received with glee and gratitude._


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